


Five Centimeters Away

by lockkette



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Angst, Blood and Violence, Family Drama, Family drama near the end of the chapter, Gun Violence, M/M, Yakuza
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-27 16:33:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30125676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lockkette/pseuds/lockkette
Summary: They say opposites attract but to what extent? How corrupted was the wavelength that had separated complete opposites: Miya Atsumu and Sakusa Kiyoomi, to the point where daggers are at each other's neck?Two teams, forced to work together to achieve the same goal, or are faced to death. Blood will spill and bodies will drop.The yakuza member thinks this mission would've been a breeze without /them/ tagging along. Atsumu is forced to work with forensic FBI agent, Sakusa, throughout the operation. Whose body will descend first?
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 8
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am so excited to start this!! I told myself I would wait until half way to post the first chapter but it's Omi's birthday so I'll spare him. Thank you to [Elle](https://www.instagram.com/haikyuuni/) for beta reading and always encouraging me to do better and to stay motivated<3 I can't wait to see how this goes :)
> 
> (also have no clue how often I'll update, I'll try my best every other week but I hope you all will be patient with me)<3

People say, “life can change in a blink of an eye,” but like most things, one won’t believe it until they see it. Or in even worse circumstances, be in that position. 

There’s no certainty to time besides the rubic that has been set and not changed for centuries. But sleep tells no time. 

Exactly how long _has_ it been?

“Hang in there,” he couldn’t tell who it was, nor where he was, or what was happening. Everytime he tried to pry his eyes open he would be blinded by white flashing lights.

Movement below him, noises- no voices overshadowed one another. Soon, he was back into this timeless space of slumber.

The flashes of white light didn’t let up for a few minutes, enough to concur a dream or at least something better than staring at the back of his own eyeballs.

His feet felt like they were sinking for a millisecond. He looked down to see yellow and white particles mixed together. _Sand?_ He let his arms swing out to the sides of this body, feeling gentle wind past by. He breathed in the intoxicating scent of salt coming from the direction in front of him. He heard trees’ leaves rattle and even heard some break apart from it’s branch. So many things to process at one moment left the man feeling on a cloud. Maybe not cloud 9, but everything around him felt aerie. 

Simply breathing felt painful to him. A throb in the side of his lower abdomen made him want to drop to the ground and silently scream. But in some unexplainable way, he couldn’t do what he wanted. He could move on the sand, his whole body could move. The wound impaled on him felt distant but it was vividly distinct from the expressions the man made as he walked closer to the salted scent.

He brought his hand to the side of his stomach, no blood leaked. No clothes stained. Talking about clothes, the man was dressed in an all black outfit. A loose black t-shirt but enough to fit the areas near his muscle, and black cargo pants with pockets down both sides and a strap on his left thigh. It was no longer tight, but when he lifted his legs to move there was a slight suffocation around it. Shoes seemed to be non existent, he curled his toes into the damp sand. 

The shallow water drifted back and forth, he looked at it as if it were going to sharpen into ice and cut his feet open. But as it approached closer, it lessened, showing no threat. He leaned down, delicately in need to feel the water. His knees were inches below his chin, hand out in front of him barely high enough for the water to just lightly wet the palm of his fingers.

The water was no friend or foe, the man knew better to assume the best when there’s a worst to come. Sad logic, he knew. But it kept things away until a safe range was distinguished. He wanted to say he forgot everything the academy taught him about precautions and safety hazards, but they lingered in the back of his brain. This water didn’t hurt him, at least not yet.

The only noise, besides the sound of the water whooshing against itself, was the man’s breathing. For some reason he couldn’t keep it under control. It wasn’t like he was under any current stress. The water was no friend nor foe. The sand was not his enemy. The breeze did not carry him away, nor did the trees scare him affray. 

Courtesy to the morals he had broken already, the man stood back up. He wiped the small amount of salt water off his fingers on his pants and began looking around once more. One could never be sure of their surroundings. It was as if the trees morphed into a forest across the waves. The trees hung low enough to touch its highest tress. Bushes hid the root of most trees, sand stretching even into the beginning of the green land. 

The man felt adventurous, if it wasn’t for the annoying jab that still hung at his side. Like a muscle cramp after long hours working in the gym, but worse. It felt like a whole ripped through it, yet no hole was found. If he believed in sorcery, he would blame it on that. 

Slowly but surely, he made it through the first terrain of trees. Goodbye ocean, whether he would come back or not, he left his mark. 

“Doctor…” the man couldn’t hear the next syllables loud enough to comprehend, “he’s going in and out.” The voice was loud, hurting the man’s head more scrutinizing than the killer pain he’s been having.

A new voice appears among murmurs, “we can't lose him. Prepare the…” and the man was out again.

The trees felt like a barrier to him. Walking under it felt like he was entering a haven of treasures. Nothing crawled beneath his feet and nothing sung above his head besides greens in the mist of departing from its home. He could no longer see the sky as the trees loomed over him, as if protecting him for hail or heavy rain. 

Neither came. 

Though the breeze decided to pick up from where it left off from earlier. Strong winds of dust swirled in circles as leaves and other particles joined them. Mini tornadoes formed from nothing, captivating the man’s time and knowledge of space. 

The walk through the forest was as if he were walking into an open museum filled with mosses of different regions. One minute he was seeping into a dance of trees, the next it was the music of the branches, then it was a color pool. 

Beds of yellow and red and brown flooded his vision like no other time has. At first he rethought if he had been seeing grey and black the whole time while exploring. These bright colors all of a sudden felt like his life line.

“One more time,” the whisper was loud enough to be heard by the man but not loud enough for the amount of bodies near. “Stay alive for me.” 

And out like the light he went. 

  
  
  


The man’s friend once told him to look in the good of every evil and to remember that there is always evil in anything good. When the separated souls touch, it's known as a symbol of equality. Though both are significantly filled with two compelling sides, neither can deny the fact that both will always have one of each other.

The same man taught him how to use a gun, he would never forget either lessons. 

Through his shut eyes he senses a glaring light to his left and right. The first light he’s seen in a while. As the nurses said earlier, he had been falling in and out of consciousness. Even after the transaction that had happened , he refused to open his eyes in hopes that it would lessen the thought of it— _them_ — coming back. 

There were a few times where he heard voices while awake, only choosing to relax his breathing as even as possible to avoid communicating. He wondered if he had lost his voice, not remembering how he sounded. 

Telling time went unknowingly, as time passed it no longer became a concern. He could see when the sun would rise and when dusk had neared, that was all the time that mattered to the man anyway. The mornings were filled with birds chirping near him somewhere out the room. Nights were cold and quiet. They went by faster than any other time, so there wasn’t much to say except for the fact he vaguely remembers talking to the moon once awakening every new day.

Besides the different colors throughout the day, the man and the room met no changes.

_I can’t be dead, am I? No, not possible. Unless… no no, I’m not._

The man couldn't help but open his eyes when he thought he heard familiar voices, unfortunately, they were only nightmares and cold sweats during blue hour. The dreams and nightmares all seemed to bunch up in hollowed pictures once he awakened. It didn’t bother him anymore, he knew by the time he slept again that they would show themselves(voices and all) until he would awaken. He used their voices and faces as his only evidence that he had to be alive still. Maybe not fully living, but he was alive.

The man opened his eyes to curtains hanging from the ceiling to the ends of what the bed could show. Everything was either white or off white, and occasional dashes of light blue. Light enough people could mistake it for dirty white but nothing like the off white hue which was much more of a cream color. It astonished him how he could focus on deciphering color schemes more than paying attention to the doctors and nurses that shuffled in and out of the room. 

They checked in to see his status every so often. Sometimes the doctor would catch him awake and ask questions that relied on the man in bed to answer with a brief nod or shake of the head. Though whenever he did it caused slight nausea. He refrained from too much movement in the beginning of his stable consciousness.

The more he moved the more the fog cleared up through the man’s brain. He slowly felt the bandage around his abdomen and a few around his head.

Everything that was difficult to express began to ease. His confidence depended on the voice he thought he lost. He still didn’t enjoy talking to the people that came in so at night he would sing songs he remembered from childhood descriptions.

When he had first woken up, he refused to eat anything they brought in with mere fear that it would damage him more. He wanted to eat, don’t get him wrong, but it wasn’t like he had anyone to force him with a spoon up to his mouth and a hand on his jaw opening said mouth. 

It’s been 3 days that he’s sat up staring at anything that moved in his vision. Three days without eating anything that couldn’t be digested like liquid. Three days(and more) without human interaction. Without humans that he _wanted_ to interact with. It felt like the world was on its axis, like gravity wasn’t holding him down correctly. He felt like he was slipping if not for sleeping recollections.

It was always them. Breaking him or pulling him together.

His recent dream was at the same beach he had visioned a while ago. Again, hating time and not knowing what day it was or how long he’s been here before the count made three days ago. 

The beach wasn’t as calm as the first time he visited, but the waves gave him reassurance. As if they would wash the man if he didn’t wake up himself. And now that he was awake they strided along each other. Like Yin and Yang. 

  
  
  


Day 4 was nothing different in how his days usually went. Nurses passed by with food and their notepads. Though today there were flowers on the circular table near the foot to ceiling window on the far right wall. The man often wondered if that could be a safety hazard for hospitals but forgot about the whole theory as more flowers arrived. The man would walk to the table the second the door closed to smell the scents. He even found notes left in between bouquets

_“Feel better as soon as possible. I miss my star student(don’t tell the rest).”_ That specific comment made his lips perk up. He couldn’t remember the last time he smiled at all.

_“Miss having someone to spar with, come back to us better than ever!”_ He was reminded of the hobbies he had gotten into before this incident. He involved himself in many forms of martial art. His friends often practiced with him whether it be in the open waters or on land running. If he tried hard enough, he thinks he could’ve had a creative enough mind to get into pottery or something of that category of traits. 

_“Get well or I take your spot on the team,_ **_permanently_ ** _. A threat or not, take it as you will.”_ The heart to the side of that sentence didn’t make it any better. He knew the writer of this note just by the tone. He clenched his jaw and rolled the note in a ball. His lungs felt more restricted than other days, if he fainted he would blame it on him.

He reached out for the vase the roses were in, his wrist began to involuntarily shiver. In his opinion, the people that brought the flowers should’ve kept them wrapped in plastic. 

The glass shattered on the floor. The liquid and its shards flew across the floor. It had to have alerted someone. If the noise didn’t, the man slipped a finger to the button that directly would. 

He tried to pick up a shard but unsurprisingly cut open his finger. The man simply stared at the water overflowing in blank shock.

All he could do now was maintain was wait patiently for someone to come and help him. He hated thinking of that, but it was all he could do at the moment. 

Sit back and wait. 

The doorknob twisted open and a man walked in with a sweep and broom. He had doctor gloves on but he was definitely not the usually doctor that the man had seen all these days.

His guard raised.

“Who are you?” Standing up clutching his bleeding finger. His voice cracked, having him grumble his groggy voice.

“Here to clean up the mess for you? Do you need a bandaid also?” He sounded like he was questioning himself. He was tall, maybe as tall as the man. In an outfit a doctor would wear, he seemed to play the part.

“Where’s my regular doctors and nurses?”

“Busy, I’m just a doctor next door,” he put his arms in as a surrender, as a sign he meant no harm. The man was still suspicious. Not that the man had an odd aura, odd was better than negative. 

“Name?” He asked one more question as he moved aside to let the man clean up the mess. 

The doctor begins talking about the man instead of answering the question about himself, “I know who you are. You know, you’re safe here. This hospital is filled with only people like us.” _People like us?_

He constantly went back to the notes that hung from the flowers. Most were purple orchids or red roses. They added a touch of color to the room he sat in all day. 

_“Will visit soon. Hope your ass is up by then or I’ll wake you up myself.”_ The man didn’t know how to feel about this certain note. He should be happy that the writer cared but somehow saddening emotions overlooked that; he caused the other—not just them but everyone he knew— pain through the care they give into.

He must’ve caused so much worry and concern. Sooner or later, he won’t be able to run away from the repercussions he’ll soon receive for his actions. It was only a matter of time now. 

_“When you’re healthy and up I’d love to have tea with you. Take care of yourself…”_ The three dots at the end were a significance the man picked up on immediately. Suddenly his heart strings felt uplifted. Even before he read the note and was more persuaded, the man wanted to get well as soon as possible.

  
  
  


He couldn’t wait for the day he got out of the hospital. It’s been a good year and a half since he had last laid in similar sheets and similar wraps. He wished he had kept his streak going.

Confrontation was something the man hated to come to. He knew all the ways he were in the wrong but having them said to his face by others rubbed him the wrong way. 

“You idiot.” Thing one comes bursts through the door.

“The biggest idiot I know.” Thing two arrives just as distressed as the first.

“You actually survived.” Thing three rushes behind to save the door with muffins in arm’s grasp. Thing one and two looked over their shoulder to collaboratively glare at thing three who quickly silenced himself.

The man reading in bed only looked with widened eyes. He didn’t know visitors were coming nor that they were allowed due to the time that he hadn’t seen any. It was now day 5, he began opening up to the doctors more. A few small words were better than none. Though the man did realize the more he talked the more it surprised the person he was talking to. They would have a flash in their eyes of mixed emotions, the man could only describe them as surprisement and fear. Why, he asks him: well the man never asked so the question was still in the air. 

“Hey?” He didn’t know what exactly to say in a position where three large men stood by his bedside staring down at him like giants. They all stared at each other before releasing a tight hug to the man sitting up. 

The man was squished with embraces filled with anger and sadness, but most importantly, love. He groaned, setting of a reminder to everyone in the room that the man felt like he was being physically impaled.

“We would all slap you if you weren’t _like that_ ,” thing 3 looked at the man from the torso, up and down. The man frequently changed the wraps around his abdomen by himself and usually had a nurse fix and check his head wraps. Said it was a safety precaution, but in the time where he was left alone in the minimalistic room, he would hope to get up and stretch even if either location hurt. Every hour he gets out of bed, moves his arms to the side or down to his toes. It felt nice. It felt like stepping back into habits he remembered he had.

“Yea yea, whatever.” His throat hadn't been affected by the accident so why did it feel like it was slowly fading? He thought now that he heard himself speaking that it would make him less self conscious but now he was in the midst of what was regular and what was abnormal of him and his lifestyle.

“Your chief is going to be here soon. Just a heads up.” Thing two and three linger for a few more minutes catching up with each other before leaving the room. As they did they left the man spare clothes and a light head bonk before leaving. He was glad to see his old buddies. Glad to see they were doing well. It felt like he hadn’t seen him in months though in reality time it must’ve only been a week or so(he wouldn’t believe he had been hospitalized for more than a month).

“So…” he started. No matter how it started, this conversation was not going anywhere positive knowing thing one.

“Shut up, ya scrub.” It was like music to his ears, true words of endearment. One normal person would take it as an insult, but not him. Not them.

“Miss me?” The man looked up at the man who looked practically identical to him if not the natural hair color and hair part. 

“No,” a sniffle, “didn’t even realize you were in the hospital all this time.” They chuckled together. It was a given that the pair had missed each other. 

“‘Tsumu…” _please don’t start with my name in that tone,_ the man internally begged.

“Atsumu I thought—” his brother couldn’t even finish his sentence before he was balling in his older sibling’s shoulder. 

“I know ‘Samu. ‘M sorry, I really am.” He patted his brother’s back as soft as he could be before rubbing large circles near his shoulder. They needed a moment of vulnerability like this once in a while. 

It was usual when Atsumu got into these beds. In these Red Cross locations. But nonetheless it always brought the two to a realization to let go of these emotions they held. 

“Ya gotta stop being an idiot, you idiot.” All these days he’s been waiting for a lecture. No one better than his younger brother to start it off from many more to come(indefinitely).

“You need to listen to yer chief. I wonder how he hasn’t kicked you off the team dammit,” Osamu, the brother in role of scolding, wiping his snot and tears all over his brother's hoodie that their friend, Aran and Suna, gave him earlier. 

Atsumu, the brother in need of the scolding, lets it be. He could use someone to talk to after all this time even if it’s about _that_. 

“Because he needs me on the team to function. What can I say?” He had no right acting so smug but he couldn’t help it. Not only did all those days of sparse communication give him no time to hold conversations, it gave him no access to release all of his egotistical messages. He would relish in his brother’s nose scrunch and lip twitch, a small victory.

It received him a smack on the head, wincing in pain. “Before you think about getting back into work, don’t. Ya won’t be working for a little while.” Atsumu looked at his brother with questioning orbs. The telepathy no longer surprised them, in most cases when they couldn’t read each other’s mind it was a sign of bad luck for the next few days. 

“I called in for ya. I know I’m not supposed to let personal reasons get in the way of yer work but honestly ‘Tsumu, you need a break. Right now would be a perfect time for one, don’tcha think?” He despised when his brother was right. 

“You’ll be released soon. After, come back to Osaka with me.” A break wouldn’t hurt much more than the bullet in him a few days ago. 

“Take a break.if ya don’t do it for yerself, do it for me.” Osamu pleaded, Atsumu sighed. He nodded, putting a reassuring hand on his twin’s shoulder. 

Osamu was never one to beg. As children, if he wanted something he’d find any motive to get behind the one actually questioning. Making Atsumu ask their parents for things was usual, sometimes he’d even use his little child act and manipulate their parents for extra snacks when they went out. Between them, Osamu was definitely the more sneaky one. 

Atsumu was more of an extroverted twin. Always the one to shoot for things first if not motivated by the one and only brother he had beside him through everything. He reached past limits and never less. Atsumu was the type of young man that inspired others into things, a true influence to others even if he didn’t realize it. Crazy because one would think with a big head and an even bigger ego that he would’ve seen people admiring him from countries away.

“You always get what ya want don’t you, baby brother?” Atsumu flicked his brother’s forehead before letting his head fall back against the small headboard behind him. 

“Quit that,” rubbing his forehead, “just come home, will ya?” 

Home. Yeah, home would be nice. The smell of fresh air as he walked through the small town in the district. He knew the corners like the back of his hand. It wasn’t as close as Tokyo big but for someone who’s never been in the area, they could get lost or found in a bad crowd within seconds. 

Home was not having to worry about a gunshot. Or seeing bodies drop. Or finding comrades in worse states. Atsumu wonders how they’re doing right now. 

  
  
  


Having company was nice, especially if it was one’s brother. His twin brother. Well if we were to be exact— _younger_ twin brother.

“Ya need to stop ‘Tsumu.” Osamu had his hands in his hair as his brother laughed in bed from afar.

“Ya need to be put in your place, ya scrub.” Atsumu slapped his thigh gently, wiping a nonexistent tear from his eyes. 

“Yer one to talk. Look at you,” Osamu picked up his sweet tea and gulped it down. 

It’s been hours since Osamu and the others arrived. Even with the other two gone, Osamu was still here for Atsumu to bother and he’d take advantage of every minute. 

They had been arguing about what tastes better: sand or salt. Don’t think too hard on who began the conversation and where it would go.

“Yer an idiot and every damn way. Just shaddup,” Osamu was on a thin thread of slapping his brother’s face. He even had to distance himself by sitting next to the table near the window. 

The sun had begun to set. Instead of the usual vibrant pink Atsumu saw from the same window, it was this yellow peach ombré. A change of scenery if colors distinguished any variance.

“Hey, can I ask ya somethin’?” Atsumu didn’t want to be a downer, but he couldn’t help his mouth from continuing to speak like it had a will of itself.

Osamu didn’t look back at his brother, but he was listening.

“How long have I been here?” Ever since those dreams about the beach, time had been his enemy. He shouldn’t have cared anymore but those beach days and forest scenes never left. Something about them compelled Atsumu back to the same place. 

He never bothered asking the nurses but either ways he never did and he couldn’t go back in time and change that.

“Almost 7 days now.” Osamu looked at anything beside his twin. Playing with his fingers or staring into the paintings as if there was anything to decipher in the first place.

Almost 7 days. 6 days and a lot of hours. 

“You were unconscious for about two days after surgery,” _surgery, huh?_ “And then you were in and out for a few more days. Then I was told that you were fully awake but wouldn’t talk to anyone.” His voice broke and lowered as he went on. 

“They said you didn’t eat. I should’ve came sooner, I’m sorry.” 

“Why didn’t you?” Atsumu stared at the back of his brother’s head. 

“Needed time and connections. Do you realize where you are?” It was then where it set in.

He looked to his left and then right. He didn’t know why his instinct did so but it was like he was looking at the room with new eyes, with no sense of everything he’s seen and heard for the past week. 

It wasn’t like him not to take in his surroundings piece by piece. He should’ve known if he _didn’t_ know where he was, especially since he’s been here longer than Osamu. 

Nothing looked out of sorts. Everything looked just like it had any other day before his brother arrived. What did he mean by connections and time? Osaka and Tokyo were only a few hours—

“Atsumu.” Snapping his attention back at his brother who finally decided to look at him.

“You’re not in Japan. This hospital is on the west coast of Europe.”

  
  
  


***

  
  
  


Not only did Atsumu lose his sense of time, but his sense of direction. 

His brother was right. They weren’t in Japan. He should’ve realized it earlier. Why didn’t he then? He looked closer into the picture frames and writing on the machines near him. There was nothing in the room that resembled Kanji or Hiragana besides the notes that his family and friends sent. 

They were in English. Atsumu being fluent in both languages must’ve not realized the difference especially in earlier states. It wouldn’t have been a surprise if he switched back to Japanese when his friends and brother came to visit. 

His room wasn’t just bland now, it felt like they were closing in on him. He took Japan for granted. He took thinking he knew everything for a grain of salt. He couldn’t have that. 

“‘Samu, where’s my phone?” He said it in the calmest voice he could manage. If talking with chattering teeth was calm. 

Osamu went through the clear bag that had all of his belongings before he was changed out of new spare clothes. 

The phone and charger were on top of the folded suit outfit. They seemed to be cleaned; they smelled like detergent but the pink stain was as clear as day. Osamu’s breath hitched as he grabbed the phone, quickly closing his eyes, zipping the bag closed and rushing to hand the phone to his brother.

Atsumu saw no cracks on his screen. It shouldn’t be his concern at the moment but it gave him a bit of relief. He would’ve been obsessing over a small chip if there had been on.

He saw notifications of messages and unanswered phone calls since the last 5 days or so. 

He would check them later. 

He saw the time, 17:23.

What day was it? January 19th. 

He dialed numbers once everything sunk in. 

The other side picked up on the second ring. 

“Bokkun,” hearing Atsumu say that special name put himself in a state of relaxation.

“Tsumu? Wait this is Atsumu right?” His voice got louder as he questioned it. Atsumu couldn’t help but smile. 

“Who else could’ve survived huh?” Jokes about dying shouldn't have been funny, or not even remotely enough to smile about but both sides of the phone were grinning widely.

“Are you and the team going to be here anytime soon?” 

“We should be. Once Chief Foster gives us a clear, I am racing down to that hospital.” Bokuto, on the other line, seemed to sound as if he was shifting on the ground. Atsumu knew better than to call while they were on missions or could be. It could end badly for them, meaning he had to make this call quick.

“Ya got them didn’t cha?” Atsumu’s smile was faint. Though Bokuto couldn’t see it they knew each other too well to know by the sounds of their voices. 

“Yup,” popping the p in a whisper, “don’t worry ‘Tsumu. You’re on break, aren’t you? I’ll see you soon.” The call ended without any other comments. 

Atsumu bit his lip. He should’ve been happy. He should’ve been overjoyed. But something was biting his tongue. 

He began to shuffle, removing the blankets from his hips and below. The words of his comrade rang in his head, he didn’t need to worry. He shouldn’t, but that didn’t stop him from doing just that. Though it did compel him from doing anything, at least for now. 

Atsumu would be seeing his team tomorrow evening. He wanted to say he was excited but seeing them after this made him antsy. He wondered loosely in the dark room, practically dancing with himself.

Tomorrow came closer every minute he stayed awake. 

And with a blink of an eye his room was filled with laughter and footsteps people could mistake as bigfoot. 

If only his bag of items wasn’t so far away from him. The people in his room should be glad.

_Wait._ The people in his room…

He let his torso rise up, front and centered in front of many familiar faces. If he wasn’t so sleepy he would’ve given them a smile or at least _something_ but instead they revived a weird eyebrow and drool down his chin. Which he quickly wiped away hoping none of them saw it.

“The hells wrong with all of ya? What time is it?” Grabbing his phone to check the time. 06:09 in the morning. He was ready to murder.

“Surprise?” One of the smaller men, Hinata Shoyou, spoke. He was a weird lad, Atsumu inferred that a while back when he first was recruited him as one of them. 

“Get up. Get dressed. Get ready. We’re taking you today.” Meian Shugo, ranked right under Chief Foster, walks in with papers in hand. Atsumu wasn’t supposed to be let out for another day or so. It wasn’t like he needed a guardian to sign permission slips to let him go home, so what were in his captain’s hands?

“Cap’in, what’re those?” His tone came out ruder than expected. Maybe it was his groggy voice, and if the others thought it was rude as well he’d blame it on the morning alarm(them barging in).

“None of your concern as of right now,” he smacked the back of the thin but layered stack, “get up before I make you.” And to his feet the man arose. 

Now, Atsumu wasn’t one to make a big scene, but with the MSBY Black Jackals, he’d risk it all.

So as they ride in their private limo, all in suits and shades(inside the vehicle because they just think they’re so cool), they finally have a safe spot to talk. In other words, Atsumu was going to get another round of lectures about his actions. 

He knew it was going to happen when not even Hinata of Bokuto talked to him on the walk to the car. He’d thought they’d, at the least, ask about if he was okay, but he was proven wrong when he met their turned faces with utter silence.

Atsumu sat in the car in front of the chief who maintained eye contact. It made it worse that beside him were Adriah and Meian, the bigger guys. Don’t get the Black Jackals wrong, most of them were all taller than average, but two men taller than 6’5'' _right_ next to him? He felt intimidated, short, everything he once felt secured by were now his temporary insecurities.

“Son,” Atsumu knew that tone. He bowed his head until he felt a sting in the nape of his neck.

The tone of disappointment. His stomach dropped at all the thoughts of what his next words would be.

“You know I can’t be mad at you, which makes this scolding even harder.” Chief Foster’s voice emptied out anything but a positive impression. Chief huffed, not even knowing where to start off what he started.

“But you were smart; you knew that if it were anyone else they could’ve been hurt even worse,” he put an arm over Bokuto’s and Hinata’s shoulder. He shook them lightly and brought them to his shoulders.

“You took a bullet for us.” Adriah and Meian did the same with him on their side of the car bringing them into a half-half group embrace. So this wasn’t as bad as Atsumu thought.

“Literally,” Hinata whispered into the leaned body mass on him, uproaring laughter amongst everyone. It even made Foster chortle.

“I can't excuse your actions, boy. What you did could’ve caused us lives. But since it didn’t, we do owe you.” Meian leans into the center of the limo, handing Chief the papers he’s been holding on to ever since he stepped into Atsumu’s vacant hospital room. 

He began putting the pieces together. Hoping that what those papers said were what he wanted to hear. 

“Are those—” the blonde was shushed by a finger gesture. 

“Patience, boy,” Chief looked at the papers once more before nodding to Atsumu and flipping it over so Atsumu could see the writing portion for himself.

He couldn’t specifically see the words written in front of his face due to the darkness of the interior car but it had to be what he was thinking of.

“These are permission for you to train the newbies,” the moment he saw Atsumu’s eyes glow he had to add, “after your break, of course.” His smile lessened and his eyes went back to staring at his dress shoes. 

Atsumu was overjoyed nonetheless. The newbies were the new recruits that joined their group of… people per se. 

What was the easiest way to tell someone that the MSBY Black Jackals were a yakuza group?

They were the infamous grounded group in Japan. Anyone who knew basic math knew the threat they possessed. They weren't popular because of their numbers, don't misunderstand. They didn't _need_ numbers. They had power in the fewest of people matter a fact. They were neutral for the most part. Leading by traditional codes of honor and continuing to pass on newer generations with their rules. There were things only they knew, things only they could stand up to. They liked to rule for themselves and them only. Abiding by the laws and regulations of Japan, but taking advantage of everything else they still had in their power. 

Don't get them wrong, they weren't against the government and everything they did. Well- let's say that they aren't apart of their work enforcements for a reason. The Black Jackals were their own group of people and that fact alone was enough to scare anyone. They'd been untouched, unmatched, and undeniably top dogs. Little brawls weren't a big deal anymore due to the lack of media the yakuza got. The government couldn't have their citizens afraid. So hypothetically, rules didn't matter in their territory, did they?

If there ever came to a turning point in society, the Black Jackals had this moto: fight crime with crime against crime. That was all that they needed to remember. 

“Are you sure you really want me taking a break now?” Atsumu enjoyed his breaks, but this didn’t just feel like a break.

“Miya, it was either you take a break to spend with your family or be trapped in the quarters where you’d be on house arrest. You’d be miserable and upset. The best option is to take a break, I don’t wanna see your face for a while.” 

Samson Foster was a threat to take seriously, so who was he to continue to question his leader? He knew his place, Atsumu knew he couldn’t help it when orders were already in session. He didn’t have time to worry about their problems, Osaka was waiting for him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHECK TAGS AFTER YAKUZA AU!!
> 
> This story isn't taken place in 2021 but it isn't too far in the past! I honestly wouldn't think too hard about Atsumu's age or Sakusa's whenever he does show up (wink wink soon...) 
> 
> Enjoy!!  
> [Twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/lockkette)

One moment they were in a limousine and the next they were in the back of an airport next to a private jet.

“No way,” Atsumu looked at it with sparkles in his eyes. He was living some story dream right now. He had to be.

“Is this the part where you give me the keys and I fly this big boy around?” Atsumu made a begging hand gesture towards Foster, earning a chuckle and a hard slap on the back. 

“I barely let you use a rifle, you’ll never catch me flying in a plane with you as the pilot.” The man jokingly pouted but followed everyone else. They all one by one stepped onto the stairs with their personal bag. 

Miya still lingered on the ghost figure of that slap. Atsumu and the boss have known each other a few years before Atsumu joined the Yakuza. He got mixed into a bad crowd and it seemed like the only way to get out of it was to do something even worse(or so he thought). Atsumu was offered to join Samson early in his highschool year. In the beginning he only ran errands for people. He still needed to keep his grades up so suspicion wouldn’t rise. It wasn’t hard for him to balance it all really, sometimes after school he’d even go and ask members for help when no one was home. 

What he thought would be the worst decision he’d make out of the smartest tactic became the best thing that had happened to him.

Foster got to see 15 Atsumu through 23 year old Atsumu. Atsumu thought of him as as much of a father as Foster thought of him as a son. 

“How was being shot, you idiot?” Atsumu rolls his eyes at the sound of the voice. He thought he could avoid the man since there was no sign of him in the car. 

“Yer a pain, Inunaki-San. I thought we finally got rid of ya,” sitting near a window seat in the plane; his bag of belongings on the seat in front of him.

“Was busy cleaning up the mess ya made. Did no one tell you how many problems you caused just because you wanted to be the big hero?” 

Atsumu bit his lip.

“Drop it Shion,” Adriah demands as he stood in front of the man. Inunaki didn’t let up though. 

“No. Why should I? Because he’s still young? Because he’s  _ too valuable  _ to let go? If he is then it don’t matter if I  _ drop it. _ You can’t just do things like that, Miya. Running into battle doesn’t just affect you, it hurts the rest of us.” Atsumu knew it was all in love. He knew that If no one yelled at him once or twice for doing something out of line Inunaki would. And he was right. Inunaki was right.

He shouldn’t have ran into battle, especially not alone. 

Atsumu knew the enemy, had them ready for the snipers on the other side of the walkie-talkie. The snipers were supposed to shoot, but they were found. They shouldn’t have been but Atsumu knew it was because of him. Everything that went wrong was because of him.

He made sure to leave no clue to where he or any of his team were but somehow half of them were found and were brought into openfire. The mission in itself risked too much unnecessary blood so they should’ve just retreated.

Atsumu should’ve retreated. 

“You’re family Miya, start realizing that.”

The moment he knew something in the air was nothing but transparent, he should’ve rendered the mission a no go and left with everyone. 

  
  
  


Atsumu was on surveillance around the hotel the Black Jackals were compromising in. It was supposed to be a mutual trade, the MSBY gets weapons that weren’t accessible to the public and  _ they _ would get as much money as they wanted. They didn’t ask for much, which hadn’t been sketchy until they reached the meeting sight. 

Atsumu was supposed to be out on watch with the rest of them but the chief told him to find the surveillance room and guide them through the process. He must’ve known that this was suspicious as well so why?

Now Miya wasn’t the best communicator, but he did get everyone’s attention quicker than flaring gunshots. The one time the boss wanted him away from the bright lights and loud bangs, they decided to go after him.

The one time Atsumu is left vulnerable they prey on him like beasts, abandoning all common sense and hope for this trade to be successful. They all have a few floors, flat roof with large damaged windows and doors practically falling off their perch. The inside was no better, furniture was covered with white cloth and it was either the tiles were cracked and fallen into the ground or railings and stairs weren’t safe enough to even look at.

Atsumu raced through the hotel looking for the room. Finding it was as easy as pulling a trigger, hotels near this area of the foreign European country. They all had the same layout, which Atsumu remembered by square foot. It wasn’t unusual for gangs like these to use vacant hotels as meet places. 

They were left alone and no one dared to enter them, purposely leaving it to be dead at night. A perfect time to do anything, so it was no surprise that the MSBY came prepared.

Gladly the lights and power still worked in the room filled with mini TV’s. There was a decent night vision view of most corners of the building. It was good enough for the route Atsumu needed to direct everyone to. 

It would’ve been easier if the Chief had someone with technical knowledge for this. Atsumu played with buttons until one of them worked like magic. 

He learned how to hijack multiple devices whilst working with the yakuza, but he was far from anything special when working with anything more than basic technology. 

He had eyes on the staircases which were territorial to the other side by  _ the group _ . Luckily there were two cases on both sides of the hotel, Atsumu told his team to use the other flight of stairs and to be extremely careful whilst walking up. There were sounds from outside his door that sounded like rocks falling down. The worst case scenario was someone falling through the floor, and they couldn’t have any of it. 

He needed snipers above and quickly. Any moment now fires would be shot and both sides weren’t going down without a fight. Atsumu wished this could’ve just went according to plan. He sighed, focusing back on the screens for any miscalculations he could’ve caused. These moments he was the most hyper aware. Of course, this was the first time he was coordinating a team of 45 men or so but he should treat every rendezvous like this as if it were his last.

The mission hadn’t been aborted yet, they  _ needed  _ those weapons even if they weren’t going to do it in the civil way. The money was in a suitcase somewhere in the building. Atsumu could only think of one place it would be: the secondary car they came in. The geaser Foster probably left it in there with him, and no one was going to go near him. The question was where were the weapons?

Things started to go starting with the bottom floor of the hotel, having 8 in total. Atsumu directed everyone to ignore fighting unless it was on the upper floors or they absolutely could not prevent it. They couldn’t risk fighting, even worse risk harm. Not that getting hurt was a problem. A few scratches won’t kill anyone, but it was better in general to avoid damages. Maybe if they were in Japan it wouldn’t be a problem. But these were unknown territories, being cautious was something that they needed to constantly remind themself of.

The Yakuza didn’t kill for no reason like rumours have brought light to. They did the job other groups couldn’t; their way and went on with their lives like any other group would. Most are peaceful enough to even ally enough with government groups. Others only did it for fear. For money. For terror. 

“Miya, where’s the leader?” Bokuto sounded out of breath due to him running up the stairs. Atsumu could see him in one of the cameras with a few of their men following close behind.

“There’s two possible locations: a room and on the roof. Take the room, I’ll lead you there on the next floor. Hinata needs a bit more time to get ready.” Hinata had to be the best sharp shooter the century had to offer. Atsumu would like to debate but now was not the time and place. 

Literally, any gun the team gave him was impossible to not hit a bullseye. Foster liked to call him the gift that kept on giving. Hinata Shoyou was a firing machine.

“Gotcha, and who's going up to the roof?” Atsumu sees that they’ve reached the floor with the room they needed to move into. Bokuto pulled on his all black bulletproof vest. His clothes tugged on his skin, a short sleeve black turtleneck right under and black dress pants with combat boots. How he made dress pants look like nicely trimmed cargo pants? Only Akaashi, his fiancé, will ever know.

Everyone behind him, or the men that every MSBY group had, were dressed somewhat different but all in dark colors. Atsumu himself was dressed in a bulletproof proof vest suited up with guns and other equipment.

“Don’t mind it, just distract the people on that floor and head to the roof.” There was no better best friend duo than Atsumu and Koutarou. Atsumu was a year younger than Bokuto even in highschool, where they became acquainted with one another. 

Atsumu had gone through hard times throughout his highschool years. Going back and forth with a bad crowd, it was almost unbelievable that he would see Bokuto hanging around the Yakuza crowd. He didn’t want to say that it persuaded his choice to join, but it had a huge impact on Atsumu’s life decision. Bokuto and him grew even closer, brotherly like, as the years went on.

They had a bond that needed no words, just trust.

Atsumu took a blind guess and thought the next group should’ve been Adriah’s and Meian’s team.

The line cut off to Adriah who was right next to Meian with their team beside them on the steps . 

“Hey guys. I’m gonna need you to follow Kou’s group and go past them. I didnt know which group should’ve gone to the roof so I’m trusting my gut. Head to the roof, and wait for Shoyo’s sign, alright?” A rumble of  _ yes’  _ rant in the background.

“You’re doing good for the first time, Miya.” Meian complimented leading the group past the last of Bokuto’s squad.

“Well it’s not like I got 50 or so men depending on me.” A small chuckle was heard from Meian and Adriah. Even in these situations they found a second to relieve themselves and others around them. Great examples that Atsumu has had to look up to these past few years officially in the yakuza.

“After you get up there I’ll have back up not too far. We gotta get those items back or all of us are doing this for nothin’.” With that the line cut off again. 

Atsumu took a breath out. He had a hand on his gun that sat in his hip. He kissed the top of it before looking back at the cameras. He made sure to scout the hall of the area around, no one thought about touching or even coming close to the room. The scout made sure to lock the room and make sure a close eye was on the camera at all times. Time was at the essence.

The scout had to check back up with Hinata to make sure plans were going smoothly, as they should. Atsumu didn’t make mistakes. Though he likes to mess around with everyone like he was a teenager again, when it came to business Atsumu came as a package deal sealed with perfection. 

He couldn’t see what that little man was doing since he was in a whole other building. Hinata told him that he needed a higher level floor or an afar building to plant himself on. This gang couldn’t have been as smart  _ not _ to isolate the black jackals in a single location with one single hotel.

This was an abandoned town. 

This was Hinata’s and his selection’s terrain. He had a few of them up there with him and the rest surrounded the perimeter of the hotel. Some even reached the outskirts of town.

Everything was looking as clear as the moon, until a voice on the intercom popped out and decided to say hello.

“Is that orange head of yours a member of your gang?” A laugh came shortly after the deep voice erupted out of thin air. Atsumu’s level of steadiness had tipped. He slowly turned around only to see nothing nor the the person the voice came from.

Atsumu stayed silent as he took in the breathing patterns of the person who hacked into their communication line.

“He might wanna be careful. Who knows, he may just,”— The sound of a lighter flaming off and a short breathy exhale came after,— “fall.”

“You wouldn’t,” Atsumu grazed his eyes over the monitors, looking for any sign of who this voice belonged to. He was running out of monitors to look over whilst struggling to track anything over the sudden presence in his ear jack. 

“You think that, but you  _ really don’t  _ know what I’ll do, don’t you, Miya?” The taunt in this voice boiled Atsumu’s blood. While also having the audacity to identify Atsumu whilst leaving themselves a mystery? Atsumu wanted a bullet through their head.

Atsumu stayed quiet, alerting the back up groups to start moving. He needed to find a way to tell Shoyo without this man knowing. Everything about him screwed the plan over. Now, there was a panic; a chance of something worse and unknown could happen any moment now.

_ Fuck, shit, fuck.  _

He only had one thought process but it wasn’t his regular ones he would have. Oh to hell with regular, nothing about this mission was regular in the slightest. 

One last text of confirmation before he broke all the glass between him and the monitors in front of him. He couldn’t let anyone come in after and mess with the plan even more. 

Whoever this man was wasn’t going to ruin the mission for the team any further than it began. All they wanted was those down weapons. None of this was supposed to happen. 

Hinata was a necessity to the team just like everyone else. Everyone played a specific role. Right now, Atsumu’s role was to make sure he was safe. 

He alerted everyone on the team via Morse code, giving them the alert code. It was meant for a known change of plans but to move on with high suspicions for anything else. He wouldn’t be able to watch over them, he would finally be in the action. But this time springing in action didn’t feel like a breeze, it felt like running into a hurricane. 

He didn’t bother checking his phone again as his mic began to break on the way to the building Shoyo was on top of. He could see a small peak of orange hair pick out of the dark hood he had worn tonight. He couldn’t see any of his men, it was a good sign: they must’ve camouflaged well enough or they were gone by whatever or whoever that was that Atsumu talked to minutes ago. 

He raced up the stairs, each level got him closer to pulling his gun out. By the time he reached the top floor, he saw Hinata looking through the lenses of his sniper (as he was assigned to). Of course he didn’t see the text. He must’ve been so zoned out to not even notice that his men we’re definitely knocked out as Atsumu ran past where they were supposed to be hidden. It was no surprise that whoever took them out would be going for their leader next…

This led to an accusation of how ominous the man right in front of Atsumu but trailing behind Shoyo was. 

He had a knife in hand ready to stab but before Atsumu could fully verbalize Hinata’s name, something hit Atsumu faster than the tsunami waves could wipe out coastal cities. And stronger than how the waves would crash over and onto buildings, in this case, his torso. 

It was loud enough to awaken something in Hinata. Within seconds he reviewed himself in the mirror before kicking his foot behind the person’s calf that was millimeters from swooping that sharp dagger. The man caught in surprise, fell to the ground with a grunt. Hinata pounced on him, kicking the knife far out of his grasp and beginning to pull both of this man’s hands behind his back until he was screaming. 

It was then where Hinata saw Atsumu’s body dropped down on the cold concrete roof. He stood on the intruder in shock as he saw Atsumu leaking blood from his side. Terror took over his face, looking to see who might’ve caused this ordeal but they were long gone.

Hinata quickly took care of the man beneath him before moving on his knees to his partner in terrible shape. The last thing Atsumu could remember the was worried look on the short man’s face and the hands roaming his face and body for any sort of idea of what to do next. He hated that look and if he could ever prevent any of his friends and family from making that face, he would.

“’Tsumu? Hey Tsumu, wake up,” he felt a hand on his shoulder shaking his slumbering body. He knew it was Hinata by how the hand on him shook: gentle but quick paced. If it were Bokuto, he would have just slapped Atsumu awake. No hard feelings because Atsumu would’ve done the same. 

“Mhm, I’m up, I’m up,” waking up with dilated eyes roaming everything around himself like if he had just awakened from a bad dream. Sweat drops dripped down the nape of his neck, he felt hot and cold.

“We just landed in Japan. Most of us are going to hangout but I wanted to take you back to Osaka.” Atsumu stretched, nodding to the smaller man.

“Aw, that’s kind of ya Sho-kun.”

“Yeah well I wanted to apologize for—”

“Shoyo I wouldn’t mind it.” They began walking off the plan, seeing multiple black cars of the same brand in a row awaiting members to enter. 

“Instead, say thank you,” 

Hinata persisted with that gleaming guiltily face of his, “you would’ve died. Me getting shot was probably the best thing that came out of that night.” The door of the car was wide open for them to step into, just like Atsumu knowing he needed to push this discussion to get through Hinata.

“What would Tobio do to me if I let you go that night?” Atsumu proceeded to see the way Hinata bit his lip and glance he made towards his shoes. 

“Yeah, stay quiet. This is our job Shoyou. This is what we do. I’m happy yer safe, so leave it behind and if you do want to repay me, buy me a drink when I’m back.” Atsumu patted his shoulder and smiled at him, as Atsumu would regularly do. 

Hinata seemed to calm down at the familiarity, attempting to smile as well. At the end of the day, taking bullets were better than facing death  _ any _ day.

  
  
  


***

  
  


“Get off me before I slap yer ugly face,” Osamu had his palm in Atsumu’s face as Atsumu tried to wrap his arms around his brother.

“I think ya should be a little nicer to yer brother who came here for ya,” Atsumu punched his stomach softly before bringing his bags inside their childhood house. It felt nice being back as Atsumu hardly took the time to visit out. 

Ever heard the phrase once you go in you won’t come out? Well the Miya Family were known for walking into the Yakuza and haven’t came out since.

Except for Osamu. Osamu was once in one group as well once he found out that this was what Atsumu was at and did in his spare time. He quickly saw it with his own eyes and had to be one of the luckiest people to get out of it without losing a pinky. He had his own reasons for leaving and how he left. Through generations of the Miya family going from having a yakuza group to slowly merging with other groups, Miya Osamu has been the first to leave without a death sentence.

The twins were troublemakers when they were younger; they thought things like the yakuza were a joke, but they found out soon enough that it wasn’t when their father took them to see one in action. Their father had connections to everyone in Japan, or that’s was it seemed like. Father Miya even had his own group…

Their childhood house was decorated thoroughly in a traditional Japanese style. They liked to live under traditional methods back at home. It fit so they kept their house from being sold even after their parents no longer lived here.

Osamu found a new life outside the gang, he lived free now and that’s all that mattered to Atsumu. Osamu was happy. 

“So what now?” Atsumu left his bags down near the genkan as he walked around the furnished house. It held samurais and large family photos on the wall. There was an antique clock at the end of the hall.

The house was surrounded by wooden verandas that Atsumu can remember chasing Osamu around as children. And the bridge across the koi pond their mother looked after constantly. And the beautiful trees and gardens she made the twins look after with her daily. 

Other times they’d make their own knives with their father that were now inside the clock for display. They made a new set every year for their birthday. 

“I was thinking we could do a little brother bonding while you were with me?” 

Atsumu usually worked long hours and never had time to come down here. He liked to work as much as he could before Foster or Meian made him take temporary leave. 

He did call whenever he could to make sure his brother was alright. “What type of bonding? If it involves cooking I’m flying back to Europe,” he said defensively. They both looked at each other and laughed. 

He missed that. Their parents always knew how to tell them apart by the way they giggled. Atsumu had a high pitched squeal before laughing like a witch while Osamu giggled a few times before silently inhaling oxygen and then coughing after the fuss. They took their childhood for granted and now it resides in a no good goofy 24 year old. Osamu didn’t want to be categorized with his brother but he would’ve been included.

“It’s crazy but here me out,” usually Atsumu would expect to hear that from his own mouth. He sat down on the floor next to the table closer to the ground than the ceiling. Everything in their house was close to the ground unless it was built in. They had multiple rooms, all had sliding doors with paintings that their family had made throughout their years. Most rooms simply were thought of as wider halls to the main rooms where they slept, ate, relaxed, and used to let go of what they’d digested. 

“Let’s rebuild this house.”

Atsumu looked at his blood sibling as if there were actually blood coming out of him. Though that changed nothing about Osamu’s expression who was already starting to bake something. By the look of ingredients on the table, he was making a cake. 

“Osamu, brother, can I call you brother?” He took talking into thin air as a yes.

“Well,  _ brother _ , you are a man who works at an Onigiri slash bar shop.  _ I  _ am a member of the yakuza,” he made sure to speak clearly and slowly.

“Why do you think that we, two people who have no correlation to building and constructing, would be able to do that?” He stayed on the floor leaning onto the table whilst using his arms to wave around in exaggerated motions that expressed just as much as his face did.

“We don’t need to be the one doing it. We could just make a layout and have other people make it.” Osamu said as he began to whisk the eggs together. 

“Look, when pa and ma got transferred, he left all this land he and ma used for farming. Come on let’s make something out of it. We could make a mansion, have a pool, a gate, literally anything.”

Atsumu didn’t like bringing up their parents in that way but Osamu did it so casually and frequently. It was like a cut on his knee that had to be washed with alcohol to prevent further infection. Except this cut seemed to have led up for years yet no infection nor healing was made. The stinging was a never ending void in him.

They were both members— leaders— of their own yakuza group. Dated back and past down, the Miya name was always known for their secrecy until it came to business. Hell anyone could find out what they were doing, but it usually never went as far as to why and how. The media only ever knew the after effects of the Miya clan’s power.

There was an incident a decade ago exactly. A mission that had been longing to be done by their parents. Almost all of them had been injured due to this miscalculation. A simple thing that could have been prevented.

Atsumu and Osamu had been out with their friends at a sleepover the night their parents were out in cuffs. The police told them that they were found dealing in the back of an alleyway. The police knew the Miya family too well. They’d probably had their whole family under surveillance at one point.

They were put away for something neither of them did. The police might’ve lied to the 14 year olds to create less of a disturbance on the road. It wasn’t like why they were put away mattered(it did) but what was going to happen next? 

Atsumu made money with the type of work he did. He made more than he needed, an investment would be beneficial in a way. 

It wasn’t like they couldn’t pull this off building a house with all the connections Atsumu had, but he was just curious as to why such an upbringing his brother has came to.

“My life isn’t just in that shop ‘Tsumu. If you don’t wanna take this building down then let’s leave this house and build around. Have ya seen that anime Attack On Titan? Like those walls, ya know?” He knew exactly what his brother was talking about. He didn’t watch anime as often as he did when he was a child but he knew that specific anime had grown popular within the last few months. 

“I want somewhere my friends and family can call a safe place. Your job ain’t easy, nor safe.” Osamu popped the filled pan into the oven before wiping his nonexistent sweat off his forehead and leaning against the counter. 

“This could be fun. We can work on how we want it to look and it’ll also give us something to do  _ together _ .” Osamu looked to the ceiling blinking abruptly. Atsumu concentrated his eyes on his brother before sitting up straight.

“Is that what’s this about? Having a place to come more often because you’re feeling lonely that you left the yakuza?”

“That’s exactly what’s it about Atsumu! You still blame yourself for ma and pa’s time in prison. Don’t lie to me. Or else you wouldn’t still be in that bad and shady business.”

Osamu was never one to cry. Atsumu can’t remember the last time he’d seen his brother tear up a drop. Not yet he broke his arm, not when Atsumu slammed his fingers against the door, not even when they witnessed their parents get into that cop car all bloody and ratchet in handcuffs. 

Osamu wasn’t one to express his emotions, at least not visibly.

“What I do is because  _ I want to _ . Besides, they’re my family ‘Samu.” He saw his twin’s eyes look at him sharply with tears brimming to pour out, clogging his eyesight but still not letting a single drop fall. Even now he holds himself together with his integrity. Atsumu wants to ask why but it wouldn’t do anything. 

“Well I’m  _ your _ blood. I haven’t gotten to see you in months and the day I do yer in a hospital bed,” Osamu points to the door before looking at Atsumu with fury. He breathes through his nose as his tears begin to floor. “I still don’t even know why but hell if you ever tell me.” Brushing his palms against his cheeks facing the opposite direction of his brother. 

“I just want my brother back.” Atsumu realizes that he should get up in comfort his brother before the chance becomes a dandelions’ essence turn into bliss in the air.

“I’m right here ‘Samu.” He stands six feet away from his brother, afraid to get kicked by the man. Ever since high school he’s learned not to over step boundaries...

Osamu turns around, a hand covering half his face as he continues to sniffle. “So do this with me. Make this a place  _ we _ can come to without feeling bad. Let’s do it for them.”

Each sentence he spoke, the younger brother grew gradually closer to his older brother, finally planting his hands on Atsumu’s broad shoulders. Atsumu looked at him in his teary red eyes even if he tried not to look at his brother so vulnerable. He let out a sigh, when was the last time he has said no to his brother when he had stared at him with those eyes, especially?

“Where do we start?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> scream at me on  
> [Twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/lockkette) !!

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo how was that? I hope you enjoyed! Scream with me on twitter!! <3  
> [Twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/lockkette)


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